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My Moms NoseI would rather smile than frown, cry than laugh, and will always sing along instead of just listening. I would walk around with my brain carved from my skull before letting someone tell me what to think, stomache juices tearing holes in me, simply because you said to eat. I laughed earlier when you told me to get rid of my dry flowers.... if you only knew how much space they're taking in the attic. I might claw out my eyes, just so I don't have to look at you.... cut out my tongue so I never have to taste your mouth again... but I'm keeping the nose, it's my moms nose, and I will sit amongst my flowers, content forever smelling, with her nose.... intoxicated by the scent of freedom. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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